New In Town
by celticfox
Summary: My insane version of Breaking Dawn. Crossover with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In which two vampires get verrry drunk and accidentally switch universes. Chaos rather predictably ensues.
1. Prologue

**This is... something weird and stupid that came into my mind, mostly from a cartoon I drew involving Spike telling Edward, "Duuude... you're even more pathetic than _me!"_**

**I'm probably going to continue this until I read the actual Breaking Dawn.**

**Oh, and I'm going to use a bit of Stephanie Meyer's text for the preface and first chapter, okay? So please don't sue me?**

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**Preface**

I'D HAD MORE THAN MY FAIR SHARE OF NEAR DEATH experiences, it wasn't something you ever really got used to.

It seemed oddly inevitable, though, facing death again. Like I really was marked for disaster. I'd escaped time and time again, but it kept coming back for me.

Still, this time was so different from the others.

It was so… _ridiculous._

I mean, '_Buffy the Vampire Slayer_'? It sounds like a TV show!


	2. Engaged

**Yes! The next installment!**

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ENGAGED: Or, In Which Two Vampires Get Drunk And Bella Is... Disconcerted

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NO ONE IS STARING AT YOU, I PROMISED MYSELF. NO ONE is staring at you. No one is staring at you.

But, because I couldn't lie convincingly even to myself, I had to check.

As I sat waiting for the three traffic lights in town to turn green, I peeked to the right - in her minivan, Mrs. Weber had turned her whole torso in my direction. Her eyes bored into mine, and I flinched back, wondering why she didn't drop her gaze or look ashamed. It was still considered rude to stare at people, wasn't it? Didn't that apply to me anymore?

Then I remembered that these windows were so darkly tinted that she probably had no idea if it was even me in here, let alone that I'd caught her looking. I tried to take some comfort in the fact that she wasn't really staring at me, just the car.

My car. Sigh.

I glanced to the left and my eyes widened. Two pedestrians were attempting to cross the road, rather unsuccessfully as it turned out, because they were obviously deeply drunk. They definitely didn't look local, either. The guy looked like he'd just stepped out of _The Matrix, _with his bleached platinum gelled haircut and kneelength black trenchcoat. The girl was certainly not dressed for the freezing Forks weather, wearing a rather low-cut black lace dress. They were both swaying back and forth and singing songs at the top of their lungs. I felt embarrassed on their behalf. Their fellow pedestrians frozen on the sidewalk, missing their chance to cross as they stared. Behind them, Mr. Marshall was gawking through the plate glass window of his little souvenir shop. At least he didn't have his nose pressed up against the glass. Yet.

The light turned green and, in my hurry to escape and stop feeling embarrassed, I stomped on the gas pedal without thinking - the normal way I would have punched it to get my ancient Chevy truck moving.

Engine snarling like a hunting panther, the car jolted forward so fast that my body slammed into the black leather seat and my stomach flattened against my spine.

"Arg!" I gasped as I fumbled for the brake. Keeping my head, I merely tapped the pedal. The carlurched to an absolute standstill anyway.

I couldn't bear to look around at the reaction. If there had been any doubt as to who was driving this car before, it was gone now. With the toe of my shoe, i gently nudged the gas pedal down one half millimeter, and the car shot forward again.

I managed to reach my goal, the gas station. If I hadn't been running on vapors, I wouldn't have come into town at all. I was going without a lot of things these days, like milk and shoelaces, to avoid spending time in public.

Moving as if I were in a race, I got the hatch open, the cap off, the card scanned, and the nozzle in the tank within seconds. Of course, there was nothing I could do to make the numbers on the gauge pick up the pace. They ticked by sluggishly, almost as if they were doing it just to anger me.

It wasn't bright out – a typical drizzly day in Forks, Washington – but I still felt like a spotlight was trained on me, drawing attention to the delicate ring on my left hand. At times like this, sensing the eyes on my back, it felt as if the ring were pulsing like a neon sign: Look at me, look at me.

It was stupid to be so self-conscious, and I knew that. Besides my dad and mom, did it really

matter what people were saying about my engagement? About my new car? About my mysterious acceptance into an Ivy League college? About the shiny black credit card that felt red-hit in my back pocket right now?

"Yeah, who cares what they think," I muttered under my breath.

"Um, miss?" a man's voice called, rather blearily.

I tuned, and then wished I hadn't.

The two drunks from the crosswalk stood there, shakily supporting each other. The girl was giggling insanely. I had no idea how they'd gotten here so fast, and frankly, I didn't care. I just wanted to be gone.

"M'sorry to bother you," the man continued, "but it seems too… too…. Too cold, yeah- too cold, right- for Sunnydale, right? I'mean, Califon'ya's usuuuuallly warmer, right?" The woman kept on giggling.

"California?" I said as disdainfully as I could. "Sir, you're in Washington."

"Washington?" He nodded, sagely. "Thaaas right. Thaaat makes more sense. See, Dru here-" he indicated the giggling woman, "-she thought this looked like Praaaaggue."

This was insane. I shook my head. Then I swiftly put away the nozzle and crept into the front seat to hide.

"I miss my truck," I whimpered to myself. I would have felt safer in my big, clunky old truck.

"Hey, thaas not polite," the man said, and he grabbed the door of my car.

Oh God, I thought. Maybe Edward was right, and I was a trouble magnet. I tried to pull the door closed.

The man ripped it off its hinges.

He looked at it in surprise. The woman giggled. In the background I was distantly aware of people staring at us in openmouthed amazement.

Things had just gotten very, very bad.


End file.
